


Meant To Be

by usakiwigirl



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, It's a Lawsuit in the Making, Kissing for Publicity, Kissing on Demand, M/M, The Governor is not Smart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usakiwigirl/pseuds/usakiwigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that popular YouTube video? The one with the strangers kissing? Yeah, that one. Well, it seems the Governor wants me and Danny to represent the Task Force in his attempt to replicate the publicity for the State of Hawai'i. How the hell am I going to tell Danny, my best friend, that we have to kiss on camera? </p>
<p>This is going to be a disaster...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this nearly a year ago, and promptly forgot about it. I moved halfway round the world, and then again halfway round the world. Meantime, this languished, forgotten and unfinished, so the ending is a bit dodgy.
> 
> I hope you enjoy regardless!

“You want us to do what?”

I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor as I speak — not an attractive look, but hell, anybody’s jaw would be lowered if faced with what I’ve just heard.

“You heard me, Steve. We’re running a new campaign, designed to up our numbers. It’s based off that YouTube video that’s so popular at the moment — you know the one, where all the strangers kiss for the first time. This is sort of like that, only it’s all government employees, showing how friendly we are.” Governor Denning is looking almost earnestly at me as he speaks, not something I’m used to. Usually it is anger, or severe displeasure at best. Either way, this is wrong, on so many levels.

“Governor, I don’t know the video, I’m sorry. I don’t have time to watch that sort of thing.” It’s true, I don’t spend my few off-hours watching internet videos of cats and teenage idiots doing stupid stunts. Despite Danny’s frequent comments about my apparent fetish for Guns & Ammo, I prefer the more esoteric enjoyment to be found in straight-up gay porn, when I’m not researching all the fucked up ways my mother or Wo Fat have screwed with my life.

“Every department of the government in Hawai’i is providing at least one volunteer couple for this promotional video. I need Five-0 to do the same. Kelly and Kalakaua are related, and in committed relationships, so are off the hook –– and before you say anything, I’ve already checked with both. You are — for all that you were in a long-term relationship with Catherine Rollins — out, and you make no apology for it. Detective Williams is bisexual, nor does he hide it, and he is also not in a relationship at this moment.”

I’d like to interrupt, but the Governor has his hand in the air, and that no-nonsense look is back on his face as he continues.

“I see no reason why the two of you cannot, for this one short moment, kiss briefly on-screen. It is already a known fact that the two of you work well together, and are close friends. It should be no problem.”

No problem. Right. Because the only reason I haven’t jumped Danny’s bones long before now is precisely because we work together. Closely together. Christ, the man has no clue. This is our friendship, and our partnership, he is so cavalierly throwing around. Danny is going to blow his stack worse than Pele having a major hissy fit.

“This is going to happen, Steve. I need you, and Williams, at the studio tomorrow at 10:00am.”

“Yessir. Providing we—“

“Yes, yes, providing you don’t catch a case, I get that. And even if you do, don’t think you’re getting out of it. I will track you down, McGarrett, don’t think I won’t!” Denning finishes by wagging his finger in my face, a grin that I suppose he thinks is devilishly charming on his face, but is closer to horrifically scary. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.

And I haven’t even told Danny yet.


	2. Telling Danny

“No. No, no, no.”

Danny is pacing the floor in front of my desk, his arms waving faster than a windmill in a hurricane. His face is quickly gaining colour, only it’s not the flattering shade of tan garnered through years of living in Honolulu, but a frankly perturbing shade of puce. I’m more than a little worried about Danny’s heart and blood pressure. If Danny collapses now, I could end up kissing him a whole lot sooner than the Governor planned.

“Danny—“

“No. You of all people don’t get to talk.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. How is that fair?” I’m flummoxed once more, this time because Danny has shut me down so completely. It’s not the first time, and more than likely won’t be the last, but in this case, it certainly seems out of left field, at least from my perspective. I haven’t done anything to warrant a personal attack — what happened to not shooting the messenger?

Okay, so here’s the thing — I am a SEAL. Danny is right, I have had most of the fear trained right out of me. But even before I joined the Navy, and since becoming a SEAL, I can only remember a few times in my life where I have been genuinely terrified. Opening the door to see the HPD officer the night my mother was “killed” comes to mind. Being on the phone with Victor Hess and listening to him murder my father is another. Nothing — none of these things — can hold a candle to Danny Williams when he goes quiet. Loud and ranting, I can handle. Still and silent? Better clear the room. Even better, clear the city, because all hell is about to break loose.

“Fair? I’ll give you… Steven, this is stupid. It’s irresponsible, it’s pandering, it’s bordering on harassment, and I want no part of it.” In the span of that one sentence, Danny has lost all the impressive shading in his face, and is no longer moving animatedly across the floor. He is still, and quiet, statue-like in front of my desk — and I’m braced for the explosion I am sure is to come.

Instead, Danny surprises me by simply turning around, and walking quietly out the door, letting it swing loosely behind him. He doesn’t stop at his office, but walks completely through the bullpen, past a staring Kono and Chin, and out the main doors. I look down at my desk, and sure enough, the keys to Danny’s car are gone. I didn’t see Danny pick them up, but I will admit to being more than a little preoccupied with protecting myself from potential shrapnel should Danny explode. Implode. Whatever. Point being, Danny is my weak spot, and I know it — and this just proves it.

I’ve had a little time — a couple of hours — to think about this asinine plan of Denning’s, and I’m honest enough with myself to admit that I’m kind of excited by it. Oh, not the whole being filmed part; that doesn’t exactly thrill me to tears, putting it all out there for the world to see. I agree with Danny that the whole idea is stupid and pandering. It’s the thought of kissing Danny that has me all in a tizzy now. I feel like a teenager fighting my first crush all over again. Just the possibility of getting my hands on Danny is working me up into a lather completely inappropriate to the office. It doesn’t seem to be slowing my fantasies any though, so I close my eyes and drift into an x-rated daydream.

I’m damn glad I’m sitting down as Kono’s light voice, and gentle rap on the doorframe to my office jerks me back into the here and now.

“Um, Boss… Sorry to interrupt.” She gestures back over her shoulder at Chin, standing quietly at the tech table. “We couldn’t help hearing… Maybe you should go find him? I mean, it’s Danny, right? He’s a hothead, he might, I dunno, do something…” She shrugs, looking faintly guilty.

I look up at her. “Danno? Do something, what? Stupid? Like what — jump off a cliff? Kono, no way. He’s got Grace, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. But, still, it’s Danny, Steve. You know how he gets — he’s gonna stew on this until he’s ready to pop. You’re the only one who can calm him down. Plus, you’re in this together, so…” She still looks just a bit guilty, but there’s a smirk on her face as well, one which I would love to wipe off — gently, of course. I’m not suicidal.

I sigh. She’s right, of course she is. Danny does — usually — listen to me. Eventually. And we have been roped into this monumentally stupid idea of the Governor’’s together, so yeah. Talking it out rationally is a good idea. There’s only one problem I can see with Kono’s plan:

Rational and Danny are mutually exclusive concepts when Danny is righteously pissed.


	3. Driving

I use the resources of Chin’s favourite toy to find Danny’s car; it’s not particularly ethical, but it works, especially as Danny has switched off his phone, a definite no-no in our line of work. I guess Danny must be truly angry to do so, as he would never normally put himself out of reach in case of emergency for Grace. Then again, he also knows that he can be found easily with all the technology at the disposal of Five-0, so.

I’m both surprised and not to find that Danny’s car isn’t at his own house, but parked in the driveway at Piikoi Street. For a man who professes to hate the water so much, Danny spends a lot of time staring at the ocean when he’s upset. It gives me some measure of joy to know that Danny derives peace from the sea the same way I do, albeit in a different way. Where I like to swim until exhaustion nearly drags me under, Danny prefers to stare at the waves until his eyes glaze over, and his body sinks into the shoreline, becoming one with the world.

It’s a twenty minute drive to my own house from Five-0 headquarters, but I make it in a little less than fifteen. I receive an interesting — and enlightening — call from Governor Denning during the drive, saving me from calling the man himself and possibly ruining what is, after all, a damn good thing. My job, that is, the leader of the Five-0 Task Force, not the whole kissing publicity stunt fiasco. That, I agree with Danny, is just asking for trouble.

Danny’s new, sleek, black car — another Camaro — is parked snugly in my driveway as I pull up to the house. There’s room for the truck behind it, but I don’t want to box Danny in; if Danny is still too mad after I’ve had a chance to talk to him, I want him to be able to leave if he chooses. Playing the arsehole card is something I’m going to leave up to the Governor. Oh wait, that hand has already been dealt. I park the truck in the street, making sure that Danny has plenty of room to peel out of the driveway in a hurry if he’s mad. I can be considerate, even if my mammal-to-mammal skills are a little lacking, in Danny’s words.

I know that Danny is most likely sitting on one of the Adirondack chairs down by the water, so I don’t bother going through the house, but walk around the side, skirting the lanai and crossing the lawn to where I can see Danny’s blond hair reflecting the sharp rays of light. He’s a shining beacon in the dark, is Danny, something I’m really only now beginning to realise. Danny has become my centre, my grounding point, the person I come back to when my world is rocked off its axis. Maybe Kono has a point — not only do I turn to Danny when the chips are down, but Danny does the same thing to me. We anchor each other. What started as antagonistic friendship has turned into perhaps the strongest bond imaginable, stronger even than that of siblings. I would die for my Ohana, but for Danny, I would fight to stay alive, just so I could see him one more time.

I sit in the other chair, knowing that Danny is aware of my arrival, but content to wait for him to acknowledge my presence. Pushing Danny is never a good idea; it often leads to more problems, more waiting, more ranting, more arguments, more arm-waving. Truthfully, I’m really not comfortable just sitting around, waiting for Danny to finish his epic bout of sulking, or whatever it is he’s working through at this particular moment, but experience has taught me it is better to keep my mouth shut, than to find it forcibly closed with Danny’s sharp right hook. The man might be a good seven inches shorter than me, but that means nothing when all of his considerable muscle mass is behind his arm. Danny can punch, and fuck, it hurts to be on the receiving end. I’m not keen to repeat the experience anytime soon.

Lucky for me, Danny isn’t one to sit in silence beautiful, not when there is an opportunity to wave his arms around or wax poetic about the evils of fruit on pizza. It’s only a matter of minutes before Danny breaks the silence of water breaking quietly on sand.

“You a glutton for punishment, or what?”


	4. Talking It Out

“Danny…”

“Oh, come on, McGarrett. I’m not going to bite your head off. I was joking. Sort of.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. “Jesus, Danny. I’m here because I was worried about you. We were all worried.”

“What, you think I was going to drive off a cliff, or something?” Danny snorts humourlessly.

“No, arsehole, of course not. But you were royally pissed when you left the office. I figured talking to you was the right thing to do. And I agree with you, the Governor’s idea is stupid, really stupid, but we were ordered to do it, Danny, I didn’t volunteer. You didn’t give me a chance to tell you that.”

“I already guessed that, idiot. I’m not stupid, Steven. But I could see Denning thinking of us up there as some kind of publicity coup, and I’m not doing that. I’m nobody’s patsy. I won’t play his games, just so he gets some good reviews and has a better chance of re-election. Not to mention, it really is bordering on harassment. You said all the government departments are putting forward a couple, right?” I nod. Danny continues, “I can’t believe one of them hasn’t complained, or gone straight to their union, or a lawyer — or hell, even to the media. Guess they all just want their 15 seconds of fame.”

“It’s a dead point now, Danno,” I counter.

“Huh?” Danny finally turns his head towards me, anger no longer clouding his features. He’s still quiet, and serious, but open curiosity is what I see in his eyes now.

“The Governor called while I was on my way here. Seems somebody did complain; his lawyers have persuaded him that this idea of his is “monumentally idiotic, potentially career-ending.” His words, not mine,” I sit back, a content smile on my face — Danny would call it a smirk, I’m sure. Personally, I agree with the words of the lawyers that Denning had passed forward. If it hadn’t been somebody else complaining, it would have been me — and I know I would have done things a little differently than go through lawyers. I would more likely use the direct approach, as Danny is so fond of telling me — guns blazing, grenades exploding, and fists and feet flying.

“Maybe the man isn’t a complete moron, after all,” Danny mutters quietly.

“Maybe. Either that, or he’s just a born politician, more concerned about losing his job.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like it.”

I turn in my chair and look Danny squarely in the eye. It’s the first chance I’ve had to really look at Danny since telling him of Denning’s plan to have us kiss on air. “Look, Danny, I came here to talk to you, to make sure you were okay, sure. But I also came here to ask you to come with me to talk to Denning, to convince him that this plan of his was just a massive problem waiting to blow up in his face.” I hold up my hand up when Danny opens his mouth, forestalling him before he can start in with the ranting I just know Danny is gearing himself up to let loose. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking; me wanting to talk it out, instead of shooting first and asking questions later.”

Danny laughs, which just makes me grin, even though I know it’s at my expense. “Babe, you are so busted,” Danny chortles gleefully, pointing a finger at me as he throws his head back, and lets out a whoop of pure joy. I’m glad that Danny seems to have climbed out of his funk, his deep pit of anger, but now I’m finding myself needing to sit on my hands so I don’t reach out and run my fingers down Danny’s throat, teasing the man at the vee of his shirt, just where a hint of his chest hair is starting to show past the unfastened buttons. Jesus, the perils of being attracted to my best friend.

“Look, point is, Chuckles, the whole thing has been called off. So you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Well, that is very good news, Steve.”

“Yeah, I thought you might be happy.”

“Oh, I am. Very happy.” Danny nods, as if he’s totally convinced of his words.

The only problem with that, as far as I can see, is that Danny doesn’t believe a single word of it.


	5. All Sorted

“You don’t sound so happy, Danno,” I say, sotto vocce, only half hoping that Danny will hear me. It’s a calculated risk, one that could blow up in my face. I truly hope I’m reading Danny right on this.

“What did you say? Did you say something, McGarrett? Did you say I’m not happy? That I don’t seem happy to you? What about me doesn’t scream happiness? Huh? Tell me, please, I would really like to know, how you, the master of all feelings, can tell that I — me, Daniel Williams — am not happy.” Danny’s arms are fair flying by the end of his little speech, mesmerising in their beauty. Or maybe that’s just me caught up in the fire that is flashing from Danny’s eyes. I’m not too sure at this point.

What I am sure about, however, is that I’m not stupid enough to get up and start waving my finger in Danny’s face as I answer.

“You, Danny. You’re how I can tell you’re not happy. Right now, by your actions. And your face — yes, you have a face,” I finish triumphantly.

Danny splutters for a second, obviously temporarily lost for words. I’d like to savour the moment, because I know it’s not going to last long. Sure enough, “I do NOT have a face, Steven. You, you have faces; aneurism, kicked-puppy, insane-psychotic-superSEAL-of-doom — those are your faces. Me, no faces.”

“You’re missing the point. Or hiding from it. What’s up? Why aren’t you happy? I really thought you’d be ecstatic about this.”

Danny pushes up from his chair, wandering down toward the water, his hands in his pockets pulling the material of his pants firmly across his rear. I sigh, giving Danny a minute to himself before I join him. I stop just behind Danny, putting one hand out to rest on Danny’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. For a moment, Danny is tense beneath my fingers, and then all the fight seems to drain from his body. He leans back into my hand, then turns to face me.

I think maybe the time for talking is over. That’s okay, I’m a man of action anyway, words have never been my strength — I prefer to leave that to Danny. It’s much easier now to simply reach out my hand, the one not resting on Danny’s shoulder, and slowly trace the shape of his jaw. The rasp of Danny’s stubble under my fingers is electric; shocks are sparking up my arm, as well as through my body to pool heavy in my gut.

Danny’s hands come up in turn and rest on my hips, tugging me forward until he can lean his head on my chest. His voice is muffled, but I can still hear him. “I just… I didn’t want to kiss you for the first time in front a camera, with a bunch of snap-happy press-hounds crowding around.”

My heart is beating fit to fly right out of my chest at Danny’s words — I’m sure Danny can feel the pounding through his own body, we’re so close. But I was right, the time for speech is past. Danny has just offered me the world in one simple sentence. It’s time to take it, and give back so much more.

My fingers slide under Danny’s chin, lifting his face so I can see Danny’s eyes. They’re troubled, as if Danny is afraid he’s said something wrong, that I will find offense in Danny wanting to kiss me. I want to wipe that look from Danny’s eyes — I don’t ever want Danny to think twice about kissing me, or doing anything else for that matter — so I simply lean forward and close the distance between us, sliding my lips gently across Danny’s in a kiss so gentle, so soft, it could simply be the brush of the wind across our skin.

It doesn’t stay soft, or simple, not with Danny. Let’s be honest — we’re guys, we think with our dicks, and besides, nothing we ever do is easy. It’s a matter of seconds, maybe not even that long, before flames are licking their way up my body, setting me alight with the desire to tumble Danny to the beach, cliche be damned. A flick of the tongue, a nip of the teeth — whose, I don’t know, and care less — and the kiss is instantly primal, rough and aggressive. It’s easily the most intoxicating experience I’ve enjoyed in quite some time, possibly ever. My mind is conjuring visions of Danny in the water, straddling my hips, and tongue plundering my mouth as if Danny’s checking for cavities by feel alone. I’m totally okay with this, I don’t mind it at all, it’s ramping up the pleasure I’m feeling, until Danny splashes me in the face with a metaphorical wall of cold water, stepping out of my arms until there’s a good two feet between us.

“What? Why? Danny…” I’m confused, still wiping the salt from my face that Danny’s wave has left behind.

“Two reasons, babe,” Danny says, his breathing laboured, and his pupils blown. “One, sand. I do not want to be a god-damned _Here to Eternity_ cliche, rolling around in the surf, and end up with sand in uncomfortable place, do you understand?”

I nod, because yeah, okay, Danny does have a point. Sand sucks, even if it looks romantic.

“So what’s the second reason, D?”

Danny shakes his head, smiling. “I dunno, I forget. Can we just go inside and continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable?”

“You seriously want to talk right now?”

“Yes, McGarrett, I want to talk. Idiot. No, I do not want to talk, you goof, I was thinking more along the lines of your bed.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Yeah, we can do that, he says. Come on, what are we waiting for? Things to do, people to screw.”

I laugh as I follow Danny up to the house, hip checking him through the lanai door. It’s not romantic, it’s not a declaration of everlasting love, but it’s us. And it works.

*****

I hear that Governor Denning received a note from Kono and Chin two weeks later, thanking him for settling a long-running bet. No other explanation is given.


	6. Two Weeks Later

Danny’s hands are flying as he follows me into the house, motions that fit his words and mood.

“And another thing, McGarrett — just what the hell do you have against my clothing, huh? This is the fourth shirt you’ve ruined this week alone, you menace. Look at this!” Danny yells, plucking at a ripped sleeve with one hand, and then pulling the gaping front of his shirt open, where the buttons have all popped. I’m not going to mention the large mud stain on the back, but Danny doesn’t miss anything. “And this,” he continues, turning around to show the back of the shirt, “why did you feel the need to push me into a damn mud hole?”

“Danny—” I reach out, not sure how but wanting to placate Danny’s temper.

“No.” Danny brushes off my hands. “I’m gonna take a shower, clean this mess off. You, go burn meat, or something. Swim to China, do your secret SEAL shit, whatever. Let me get clean in peace.”

It’s not what I want to do — I’d rather be in the shower with Danny — but I haven’t been partnered with the man for four years for nothing. Danny needs some time to himself to cool down, figuratively and literally. I watch Danny walk up the stairs, wincing at the long streaks of dried mud running from Danny’s arse to his knees. I really don’t have anything against Danny’s clothes, aside from getting Danny out of them as quickly as possible when we walk through the door, but this week has not been an easy one. Drug dealers in the bush, and tropical rainstorms combine to make for some messy takedowns, and it’s not my fault Danny was in the way of my last tackle. Well, maybe a little my fault. I could have shot the perp instead, but Danny is trying to get me to use methods other than shoot first, ask second. Hence, flying body shots into swampy bogs.

Ah, the hell with it. I’m not interested in grilling dinner, or swimming across the bay. My body is still tingling from having Danny trapped under it, even if Danny was wriggling and writhing in an effort to keep his head above the muddy water. My dick didn’t care then, and doesn’t care now — I was a short second from exploding, and thinking about it again has me in a fair way to going off once more. Whether Danny wants peace or not, he’s about to have company.

I strip in record time as I race up the stairs. The bathroom hasn’t had time to fill with steam yet, so I can see Danny’s silhouette clearly through the glass door of the shower. I’m glad that I took the time to remove the old tub, and tile in a large free-standing shower block — the possibilities for mischief are just endless. The downside to me being able to see Danny through the door is that Danny can see me as I enter the bathroom. I’m betting on Danny maybe wanting to let off a little steam through the creative use of the extra space provided by my recent bathroom renovation.

There are no bars of soap flying over the door, or invectives hurled through the air in my direction, so I figure I’m probably right. For now, anyway.

Danny keeps his face under the spray of water as I step into the shower. “You just couldn’t let me have this time to myself, could you, McGarrett?”

I grab the body wash and immediately start lathering Danny’s back. “Aw, come on, D,” I say softly. “I know you think I’ve got a vendetta against your shirts—”

Danny snorts. “And my pants. Don’t think I didn’t notice the mess you made of my pants, McGarrett.”

“—but I don’t, okay? I like your shirts — and your pants. I like you more out of them, but I think you look great in them, Danny. I really don’t go out of my way to mess them up. I’m sorry about today, okay? I’m sorry.”

Danny sighs, and turns his back to the spray, facing me. “I know. Accidents happen, Steve — but Jesus, really? Four shirts in one week? I’m not made of money, you know.”

“Work related, Danny. We’ll file for them, don’t worry.”

“Could ya take it a little easier on my clothes, please? It’s all I’m asking here, Steve, is for you to think a little before you slam me into a pile of horse shit. Or a soupy mess.” Danny runs his hands up my torso, settling his forearms on my shoulders.

“Well, I dunno, Danny, what’s in it for me? I mean, there’s gotta be an incentive, don’t ya think?”

“Oh, incentive? You want incentive, do you? How about I will never sleep with you again, how about that for incentive.”

“Danny—”

“McGarrett, I’m kidding. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I sigh quietly. I don’t want to sound needy, but too many years of being left behind have scarred me, and I know it. Danny knows it too, he just doesn’t sugar coat or tiptoe around my emotional truckload of baggage. He’d rather bulldoze right through the middle, and to hell with the overflow.

“Come on, aquaman. Out. I’m clean, you’re clean. We’re getting wrinkled.”

“But I was hoping—”

“Oh, I know you were hoping, Steve. I am not screwing in the shower. That way leads to broken bones, and embarrassing insurance claims. You have a perfectly good bed not ten feet from here. I know this, we’ve used it. Let’s go use it again.”

I’m only too happy to lead the way, and I’m halfway out the bathroom door when Danny’s voice stops me cold.

“Hey! Were you born in the wild? Take a towel with you, caveman. I am not sleeping on wet sheets.”

I catch the towel tossed at my head, laughing at Danny and his complaints. Two weeks — and four years — with the man, and I should know these things, but Danny still catches me by surprise sometimes. I lay the towel across the bed, no wrinkles, no puckers. Danny and his damn Princess and the Pea syndrome. It’s maybe not as comfortable as the sheets, but it’s a good quality towel, and as Danny says, the bed will be dry after. Bonus all round. Either way, Danny will look damn fine spread out on it.

“Here’s how we’re gonna play this — I’m in charge, and you will listen,” Danny pokes me in the back as he follows me into the bedroom. It takes me a second or three to catch up with the words.

“Huh?”

Danny gives me a pitying look. “Let me dumb it down for you. You, bed, now. Got it?”

Oh. Danny isn’t going to be the one spread out across the bed. Oh. Well, this is a turn around. Two weeks of screwing, and I’ve been topping the entire time. Danny hasn’t complained, not once. In fact, as one who’s never been with a man before — for all he’s bi — he’s been more than happy to let me lead, and has never questioned nor asked for anything different. I’ve been careful, and I’ve done my best to vary our experiences as much as possible; I don’t want Danny to think sex between men is simply shoving one’s dick up the arse of another man and humping away.

So, right, bed.

“You sure you’re up for this? I mean…” I trail off, not sure if it’s a wise idea to continue as I catch the look in Danny’s eyes.

“Do not impugn my intelligence, McGarrett. I am a detective, I detect for a living, and I have detected, through a careful use of my superlative detecting skills, that not only am I perfectly capable of fucking you through the mattress and into next week, you are a short word away from me shooting you in the face.”

“Jesus, you really know how to kill the mood, D. This how your marriage imploded?” I laugh as I climb up on the bed.

“My gun is right there, Steven. Do not make me reach for it. I will do it, you know I will. The temptation is always there, my fingers are itching to pull the trigger.”

I’m still laughing as I stretch out on my side. I can’t help the shiver that runs through my body when Danny curls up behind me. We fit together so well like this, our difference in height negated by virtue of our being horizontal. When push comes to shove, it’s only our leg length that has me towering over Danny, something that Danny has no trouble reminding me about whenever he feels I need taking down a notch or two.

Danny’s hands are shower-warm as he runs careful fingers down the length of my body, curling possessively around my hip before continuing their exploration. I love Danny’s hands; the gun callouses, the slightly too-long nails, and the sheer strength that Danny is careful to always keep in check. Those nails of Danny’s are leaving stinging trails up my torso, stopping to rake and pinch my nipples. I gasp, the laughter that was still bubbling in my chest abruptly cut off at the sensation that zips straight to my prick. I’m already hard — Danny has me on edge just by being near, all the time — but now I’m ready to blow, and I haven’t even been touched. I’m not a teenager anymore, I don’t have the refraction period of a horny kid, but damn if Danny isn’t out to make me come now, and how.

I try, I really do, but Danny is relentless in his attack, kissing and biting my neck at the same time as he’s feeling his way back down my chest to my groin. The sensations are overwhelming, and one touch to my cock is all it takes to have my orgasm hit me with the power of a bullet. My ability to breathe deserts me completely, and my vision greys out, leaving me floating in a void with no sound, or air, or feeling. I can, after a period too indeterminate to gauge, feel Danny pressing against my arse, and it takes a bit for me to realise that Danny is not just pressing, but entering me, pushing and filling me with a skill that belies his inexperience. It crosses my very hazy mind to wonder when Danny slipped on a condom, or slicked lube where it was most needed, or even performed a cursory stretch, but only briefly. I’m still reeling from the climax, and Danny is brushing my prostate every second or third stroke, prolonging my pleasure.

No matter what jokes I’ve made in the past, it’s more than obvious that issues in the bedroom are not what ended Danny’s marriage to Rachel; the man is a virtual demon in the sheets, a treasure not to be let go now that I’ve got him. So to speak. Danny is the one firmly holding the reins at the moment, and damn if I’m not hard again. I don’t know how, it shouldn’t even be possible, not after the first monstrous orgasm ripped through my body, but I am, I’m nearly ready to come again. All it will take is…

Well, all it takes is Danny slamming into me hard enough that I see stars. Another orgasm, not as powerful as the first, but just as enjoyable, rips through me. Danny gasps against the back of my neck, his lips and teeth taking a firm hold. I’d make a crack about his incessant need to bite me, but it feels too good. It only ramps up the jolts of pleasure coursing through my body.

Danny rocks into me a few more times, then stills completely. I can feel his prick pulse, and a part of me wishes I could feel his come filling me. Not yet, it’s probably too soon, but damn, that would be perfect.

He makes no move to slide away when he finishes, instead tightening his grip.

“McGarrett, you will be the death of me, I swear. But what a fucking way to go.”

I turn my head, just enough to catch his lips in a messy, wet and hot as hell kiss.

“Yeah, the feeling is mutual, D.”

We may have been brought together because of Dad’s murder. We may have found the best friendship either of us could want thanks to the Task Force. What we have now however, is all because of Denning, and his stupid kissing stunt.

I think I owe the man a bottle of the finest cognac as thanks.


End file.
